


bread & butter

by galacticbestbuds



Category: Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, Snapshots, slow burn kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticbestbuds/pseuds/galacticbestbuds
Summary: "Have you both been working here long?" "Yup! Must be going on five years now." A chronological retelling of the five years Phoenix and Maya spent as bakers in Labyrinthia. — plvsaa





	1. Chapter 1

**_PROLOGUE – year one_ **

—

_it’s not always easy_

_and sometimes life can be deceiving_

_i’ll tell you one thing_

_it’s always better when we’re together_

**—better together, jack johnson**

—

He’s moving clumsily around the counter during work, and he feels his elbow strike something firm and suspiciously bag-shaped. There’s a crash, and the next thing he knows, he’s covered in flour. A lot of it.

 _(Great. Now I have to explain to the boss why a good chunk of her flour suddenly went missing.)_ Phoenix sighs before coughing a bit when he inhales some of the flour, waving his hand in front of his face to direct the white powder away from him. Somewhere in the sea of white, he hears a voice pipe up, “Ah! Let me help you with that, Nick!”

“ _Nick…_?”

He blinks a couple of times, his field of vision becoming clearer by the second. It’s his co-worker, Maya Fey, brandishing a broom and dustpan from the corner of the room by the storage cabinet.

They’ve been working together for about a week, now, after he stumbled here and there in pursuit of a steady job and a place to settle down. Labyrinthia seemed to be his big break. Patty Éclaire was nice enough to take him in despite his inexperience, but he thinks a lot of it is due to the upcoming holiday season when the weather usually fell below freezing and the townsfolk begun their vacations. There was also the simple fact that she was growing older, now, and found herself in need of a couple of extra hands.

And while there was someone else, a young teenage girl that Patty has taken in years prior, who sometimes helped around in the bakery and went on runs with the boss, Espella Cantabella seemed more a doting niece than a co-worker of his.

Phoenix supposes he’d been lucky to end up paired with Maya.

After all, Maya’s just as new as him, and he’s grateful that he’s not alone in this.

“It’s a nickname for you – ha, get it? _Nick_ name?” Maya spins on her heel to look back at him, resting her cheek on the tip of the broom handle. “Anyway, I spent all night trying to think of one for you, and this was the best I could come up with!”

“That’s an… interesting take on my name.” Phoenix says, the corner of his mouth curling up into a bemused smile as he brushes more flour off his suit. _(It’s a new change, but I guess I’ll just have to get used to it… just like with everything else in this city.)_ “Thanks, Maya.”

Maya grins in return.

“No problem, _Nick_. Just hurry and wipe down the table before the boss comes back from the market!” She tosses him a rag, and Phoenix just barely catches the cloth by its corner.

Their synchronization reminds him of their very first day on the job together, when Patty had been teaching them the ropes and they just had their first few exchanges. It was as awkward as any situation where you just met your co-worker and promptly forced into situations together, but Patty had only laughed it off.

“Oh, I’m so excited for you both – I can tell that you two will get along well, just like bread and butter. Or, hmm, is it bread and jam? Or perhaps just two loaves of the finest bread combined…?” Patty mused, mostly to herself, as she pulled them aside to show them how she prepared her dough.

_(At least there’s Maya.)_

_._

“A baker should be warm and giving.” Patty starts off her lecture in a sugar-sweet tone, pacing around the counter. Phoenix can feel the sweat drip off his forehead, and he can tell that Maya’s attention is on them from the other side of the room where she is carefully shifting around the barrels so that she can sweep around them.

Then, she slams a fist on the island, eyes narrowed, “Yelling does not a baker make! Do you understand me, Phoenix? One more incident like that, and I’ll throw you in the oven!”

“Y-Yes, boss!” _(Ironic how she’s making my eardrums ring while telling_ me _not to shout.)_

He's just finished scaring away yet _another_ customer, which was something he was prone to doing this whole week, the only difference being that this time Patty was a witness to the fact. The crying baby that needed to be cooed back to sleep along with the death glare they both received for their ‘terrible service’ has probably also attributed to the severity of his lecture.

Phoenix shudders internally.

Patty’s one of the sweetest people he’s ever met and yet… so dedicated to her craft. Sometimes in the worst of ways.

“Say, why don’t you two clean up down here and then turn in for the night? Tomorrow is a new day, ho ho ho!” Patty returns to her usual self, even going as far as to giggle into her mitts. Phoenix can only sigh in relief as she stalks her way back upstairs, leaving them the responsibility to close for the day.

Phoenix watches as Maya handles the last of the customers, smiling widely and batting her eyelashes expectantly. (“Check out my ‘give me a tip’ smile! No one can say no to a cute girl.” she had told him on the first day, and he’d only smile back in politeness – he didn’t really know how else he should’ve reacted.)

The man blushes, ducking his head to avoid her eyes as he reaches into his pockets in search of loose coins. He hands them over with a sheepish grin, and Maya gladly accepts the tip.

“Thank you for your purchase, come again soon!” She says, waving him off.

Maya is brilliant. Phoenix doesn’t know how she does it.

And as he gets to reorganizing the display outside of the shop, probably even messing up Maya’s careful system, he just wishes he could get the hang of things as quickly as she does.

_._

“Hey, I overheard your… erm… _talk_ with the boss earlier. How are you doing?”

Maya cautiously pokes her head into their shared room provided by Patty – the bakers’ quarters, she’d called it when she gave them a tour of her home sweet home on the first night – before walking inside and softly shutting the door behind her.

Phoenix is laying on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head. His is the one nearest to the window, and the sound of Birdly and Bardly in one of their signature sing-offs drifts into the room through the open shutter. He’s in no mood to get up and close the window, though, so he lets the tune of the lute go into one ear and out the other.

_(Of course Maya ‘overheard’. She’d practically been watching us.)_

What was left of the Labyrinthian sun bleeds through his eyelids when he closes his eyes, voice quiet when he says, “…Maybe baking isn’t my strong suit.”

She starts to tug off her apron, which gets caught on her top knot for a bit, and when she finally pulls it off, her hair is mussed and frizzy. Maya carefully hangs the piece of clothing in her dresser and then she makes to grab a pillow sitting on top of her bed. She hugs it to her body before navigating herself across the room to plant herself on the corner of Phoenix’s bed, crossing her legs.

The pillow acts as a barrier of sorts to divide their spots on the bed, and Maya is courteous enough to respect his space. They’re still getting to know each other, after all.

“Hey, lighten up, Nick! I’m no good at baking, either.” She cocks her head in thought, combing her fingers through her hair. “Everything I’ve made this week tasted like charcoal, too, remember?”

“Well, at least you have customer service skills.” Phoenix points out sourly, turning onto his side so he can face her. “All I seem to do is point and yell.”

Maya dismisses his statement with a wave of her hand. “Okay, sure, but yours can be improved! It’s only been a week, Nick. You can’t give up now. My sister always told me that the only time you can cry is when it’s all over – and it’s not over yet.”

_(Did I look like I was going to cry…?)_

“Besides, we’re _partners_ now!” Maya continues. “I wouldn’t want to be receiving the end of the boss’ temper all by myself.”

Phoenix can feel his lips tug into a smile. “You’re right, Maya. I can’t give up now – there’s still a lot I have left to learn.” And then, he groans, flopping onto his back again. “But, ugh, where do I even start?”

“Hmm…” She rests her chin on her palm, tapping the side of her face with her index finger. As if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she claps her hands together, gathering his attention. “Hey, I know what we can do! We’re done for today, right?”

Phoenix nods. “Yeah, we closed up shop and everything.”

There’s a mischievous grin on her face which leaves Phoenix wondering if he should be worried or curious. Then again, her enthusiasm is contagious, and Phoenix sits up against his bed frame so that she could lean in closer to explain. “ _Then_ let’s go to the marketplace to buy some ingredients and try our hand at baking tonight when the boss is sleeping! That way, we won’t waste any stock, and we get to practice together!”

It wasn’t a bad idea – in fact, it was probably better than anything he could’ve come up with at the moment.

She hops off the bed and holds her hand out to him. “Let’s show her what team Fey-Wright can really do!”

.

It’s their third batch now.

The long, flattened loaf of bread is sitting there precariously on the countertop, still on the wooden peel. Maya’s crouched down so that the baguette was eye-level with her, carefully examining the bread.

“That’s it, right? We didn’t forget anything, like the oil or the milk?”

Phoenix double-checks the recipe book, and then shakes his head. “No. I’m pretty sure we got everything this time.”

“Ooh, this batch looks _good_. I mean, it’s not burnt.” Maya adds with a sheepish smile, having remembered the incident from a few hours ago when she and Phoenix had to fan the smell of charcoal coming from the oven with some of the spare aprons lying around the bakery before it rose to the second story. She inches closer to the loaf and takes a whiff, “And it smells right. When is it good to eat? Has it cooled down yet?”

“Patience, Maya.” Phoenix says, though he was quite antsy himself.

Bread took a much longer time than they both expected, especially preparing three different doughs in the dead of night. During their planning session, they forgot to consider the entire process of kneading, rising, and baking – which they spent hours on for each batch. Phoenix can see the night sky start to lighten through the small window in the bakery. This _has_ to be the one if they want to get _something_ right tonight.

“Well, it’s almost sunrise, so there’s no _time_ to be patient.”

“Have fun burning your tongue.”

“Hmph! You’re no fun, Nick.” Maya pouts melodramatically before resting her chin on the counter, inches away from the bread. “…It _does_ look better than the other two batches, right?”

“Yeah. It’s definitely an improvement.”

Maya slumps down to the floor, her back against the side of the counter. He makes to sit down next to her, and he watches as the flames of the oven start to dissipate and the wooden logs shrivel up into nothingness. As time ticks on, Maya’s head starts to nod back and forth, dangerously teetering from consciousness into sleeping territory.

After the last flame dies out and the only thing keeping the kitchen lit is the one candle they set up by the countertop, Phoenix finds it harder for him to stay awake, too.

He closes his eyes tightly and opens them again, rubbing away at the tears that were starting to form from his yawning. He wobbles onto his feet to check on the bread again.

“I think it’s about done…”  Phoenix says, leaning down to gently shake Maya awake. She’s rather disoriented at first, but she shakes her fatigue off and jumps up to stand next to him.

He cuts the loaf of bread with a serrated knife, sliding the peel closer to her. “Okay, go ahead. It’s just cool enough to eat.”

They take their own halves and then return to sitting on the floor together, this time closer to the fireplace.

It’s been nearing winter, meaning the nights begun nearing subzero as evidenced by the wispy puffs of white whenever one of them would breathe. One of the plus sides about working in a bakery, though, was the warmth that envelopes their body from the working oven and delicious baked goods that surrounded them all around.

Phoenix takes a bite.

It’s edible and his first reaction _isn’t_ to want to spit it out of his mouth. He was right to say it was an improvement.

“Yes! We did it!” Maya exclaims through a mouthful of bread. She stretches her arms out, and then promptly leans backwards until she’s laying on the floor, cuddling her half of the baguette closer to her body. She yawns. “Wow, I’m beat! Work starts in a few hours, huh?”

“Yeah… we really did end up staying up all night.”

A part of him wants to remind her that the floor was dirty from the night’s work, but after seeing how peaceful she looked and realizing just how tired he was, he supposes that the floor _did_ seem rather inviting. He follows suit, laying in their mess.

“Cheers, to us!”

Maya raises her half of the bread in the air, waving it in front of Phoenix’s face.

“To us.” He echoes, bringing his half to toast hers.

Phoenix takes another bite of the bread, and with each chew it tastes better and better, and he feels a bit warmer inside, too. Maybe it was the oven, still hot from the flames. Maybe it was the exhilaration. Maybe it was because something is finally working out for him, maybe it was because there was someone who believed in him.

Where he came from, he never really had a close friend. Sure, growing up, he had the other kids in the town to play and run around with, but it was nothing more than that. No one really tried to stick with him, through and through, and over the years he just watched as everyone else grew up with their newly found skill-sets and left. What he assumed was friendship was superficial at best.

But here… Labyrinthia’s different. New. Unexplored.

He looks to his co-worker laying besides him, eyes already shut tight. A soft snore escapes her mouth as she uses her half-eaten baguette as a makeshift pillow. She’d fallen asleep quite easily, and he would have to carry her back upstairs and clean up their mess without her.

 _However_ , Phoenix thinks to himself, a wide smile spreading across his face before he even realizes it. He wouldn’t want to start an 8-hour shift with anyone else.

_(Whatever it is… this could work.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took some liberty with their backstories since i totally forgot that all inhabitants are supposed to have “lived” in labyrinthia their whole lives, but eh, details, details. let’s just say that because nick and maya were inserted into the town much later, the storyteller just scrambled and filled their heads with false backstories and stuffed them into patty’s bakery. think of this mostly as an extended AU of the one we saw in PLvsAA, so take it all with a grain of salt tbh lmao.
> 
> nice comments/feedback make me a happy bean & i appreciate them with all my heart!!


	2. Chapter 2

**_year two_ **

—

_and it seems that every time_

_we’re eye to eye_

_i can find another piece of you_

_that i don’t wanna lose_

**—fine by me, andy grammer**

—

The weight on his back shifts again, and his vision is quickly obscured by an open scroll. He’s wobbling uncertainly back and forth between cobblestone and grass when he realizes he’s veering off-track.

“Augh—Maya! I can’t see!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to make myself comfortable!”

“And since when did I agree to giving you a piggyback ride down to the marketplace again?” Phoenix grumbles, repositioning his arms and hiking her thighs up higher on his back. He can feel himself becoming sore by the minute, and the way that the wooden basket she was carrying kept hitting against his side didn’t make matters any better, either.

“You didn’t.” Maya chirps matter-of-factly, lowering their to-do list provided by Patty to just below Phoenix’s chin. “I just hopped on ‘cause I thought it’d be fun. And _it is,_ so I win!”

And though Phoenix rolls his eyes, there’s a trace of a smile on his lips as he continues down the road toward the market that skirts the center of town. He’s used to her behavior by now; over the past year, they’ve grown closer by a considerable amount. He thinks that a lot of it is a result of the fact they are together twenty-four seven, but what used to be ‘forced’ is now done by choice.

They’ve developed a good rapport; it’s seen in their shared whispers about town gossip whenever a customer was well out of earshot, their playful banter while they clean the store, and their antics whenever Patty sends them on errands like this.

So, even when Maya does things like this, Phoenix thinks they’re just a part of the Maya Fey charm.

“What’s first on the list, Maya?”

“Hmm… looks like we need more sugar.”

.

Something else that Phoenix has realized over the past year is that they are terrible at staying on track.

Phoenix sighs when Maya starts pulling him through the crowd of people, her eyes set on one of the stalls on the opposite side of the marketplace. It’s easy, though, to let himself be guided by her, and he finds himself falling in step with her as they weave between the townsfolk.

“Nick, please? Pretty please?” Maya’s tugging on his arm, now, and he has to steady himself so the bucket of goat milk they just purchased doesn’t go spilling all over the floor, his other hand wrapped tight around the rest of the groceries.

It’s a food stall, one of the few in the city that sells hot food. He watches as the workers stir together a concoction of meats and broth, steam rising from the large pot. The aroma of stew hits his nose, and he hears a soft rumble coming from his stomach. _(It had been a while since breakfast…)_

Phoenix notices that it’s become harder and harder to say no to Maya’s pleading, and she manages to make him give in at a record time. He sets down the bucket to reach into his pocket to count the change they had left. She leans against his arm, helping to divide the coins by type, and he finds himself leaning back until they reach a balanced pose. It’s only a few coins, but he supposes that they could always just share a small bowl when a voice pipes up.

“Aw, you two are simply too cute.” The stall owner gushes, holding a hand to her heart at the sight of them. Then, she pushes forward a bowl of hot stew across the table towards them. “Here, on the house for our favorite two young lovers!”

Phoenix’s face heats up at the assumption, shaking his hands. “Er—actually, we’re not—”

“Not going to accept it!” Maya interjects, nudging Phoenix in the side with her elbow. She throws the woman a grin, accepting the bowl of stew, “Not _not_ going to accept it, he means. Thank you so much. We’ll be sure to give you a little discount if you stop by the bakery!”

Maya hums in content as she brings the bowl up to her lips, slurping nosily. Phoenix picks up the bucket and holds the basket of ingredients closer to his chest as they make their trek back towards the shopping area.

She brings a spoonful of soup up to Phoenix’s lips, and he opens his mouth obediently.

“What was that for?” He asks, chewing on his food.

“Free food is free food, Nick.” Maya shakes the spoon in the air to the beat of her words, and then she ducks her head and lowers her voice into a whisper, eyes darting side to side in search for something – or some _one_. “Besides, aren’t you kinda tired of bread?”

 _(She_ does _have a point…)_

“I guess you’re right.”

“Like always!” She quips right back, licking the spoon clean.

.

Phoenix sets down the groceries they bought from the market onto the countertop, and he begins to organize the ingredients for tomorrow’s dough. Maya’s hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and she’s washing her hands with some of the water they collected from the well this morning.

“Oh, by the way, Lettie stopped by with the mail earlier.” She mentions, getting on her tip-toes to reach at a bowl on the top shelf of one of the cupboards. Phoenix catches her struggling from the corner of his eye and retrieves the mixing bowl for her, and she mouths a small ‘thank you’ before continuing, “You got a letter from someone, so I left it on your bed.”

“Ah, that. Thanks.”

He helps prepare the warm water as she goes and measures out the right amount of sugar and yeast. They continue like this for a while, rummaging through the cabinets for oil and salt, their synergy becoming more like clockwork with each step. It’s a wonder how they’ve become so in sync with each other, and yet their bread has barely improved past edible.

And while he could leave it at that, Phoenix is feeling conversational tonight.

“It was from my parents,” Phoenix says, leaning his back against the table and resting his elbows on the countertop, “They think that I’m staying at a friend’s house while I work.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?” Maya raises an eyebrow, pausing in her mixing.

He tips the bag of flour into the bowl, pouring in a considerable amount as he considers his words. Despite how close they’ve become, he hasn’t talked much about his personal life before – it was never something he was dying to share with the world – so he isn’t sure how much he wants to divulge. Then again, it’s Maya, and he knows her well enough to trust her.

“Well… the thing is… I’m supposed to be an artist, you see. Both my parents are, anyway, and I was supposed to follow in their footsteps. I tried the whole street art schtick that they do, but nothing was ever stable for me, and besides, I’m not the best at painting. Still, they want me to carry on the Wright tradition, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

Phoenix shrugs, turning back around to coat the surface of the counter with a thin layer of flour. “The details after that are a bit foggy to me, but somehow, I ended up here. But the past year’s been pretty peaceful, so I haven’t really thought too much about it.”

Maya sizes him up and down, resting her hand on her hip. “You? A painter?”

“Exactly.” He tosses a grin back at her as she passes him the final mix, and he starts to knead the dough. Between his pounding, he says, “I’ll get back to it eventually – I’ve been practicing my art in my spare time. I can’t keep lying to them forever… but sometimes it’s just nice to pretend, you know?”

Maya hums some sort of vague agreement and she starts to look around the countertop for a clean towel.

“…How about you? What do your parents do?”

There’s a silence, and Phoenix looks up from the dough only to find Maya’s backside, steadying herself on the bucket of water. She doesn’t move for a while, but then she takes in a large breath and dunks the towel she found into the water. “I’m an orphan.”

It takes him by surprise. Maya’s never been one to talk too much about her past, either.

“I-I’m sorry, Maya, I, uh—I didn’t—” He stumbles with his wording, tossing the dough into another mixing bowl. Remembering one of the conversations they had previously, Phoenix tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, asking, “You said you had a sister, right? What was her name again?”

She takes her time coming back to the countertop, placing the now wrung and damp towel atop the bowl, moving it aside to let it rest. “Yes… her name was Mia. She… passed away around a year ago.”

_(Ack! How could everything I say be the worst possible option?)_

Maya doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort, her own eyes glazing over as she leans against the wall. She’s small enough that her head barely reaches the shelving above her, but Phoenix doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so fragile.

“I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think – I don’t think anyone in our village did. I came home one evening, we were supposed to go out for dinner and…” She trails off, her eyes guarded. “I was the first one to find her. She was murdered.”

Phoenix opens and closes his mouth a few times before opting for a simple, “Wow… that must’ve been shocking.”

He couldn’t think of anything better to offer.

“Yeah… we still haven’t found who was responsible for it. Chances are they’re one of those witches, but there’s no evidence or anything.” Maya sighs, moving across the room so that she could throw a few more logs into the oven. She sets another bucket of water by the fire, waiting for it to warm up so she can start another batch. Her face is illuminated by the flames, and the burning wood begins to sizzle. “The inquisition didn’t help much, even though we have them here for a reason.”

“And so… you came here?”

“Moved around like you did – my old village had a lot of painful memories after that. I don’t remember much about it anymore, though, like all the details are kinda blurred over. Luckily, I met the boss while I was passing through the city, and things just clicked in place. Now I’m here, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

_(She had to deal with this all by herself… how strong could she be…?)_

Maybe it was selfish of him to presume that her life only revolved around Labyrinthia, the bakery… _him_.

But there was more of her; she has her own fleshed-out backstory and life outside of everything he’s known about her.

She wasn’t just the one who drags him out of bed in the morning when he can barely keep his eyes open. The one that shoulders some of the blame with him for another bad batch of bread. The one that cons him out of some of his dinner when she would reach across the table and grab a forkful when he isn’t paying attention. The Maya he’s grown used to; how she can be loud and noisy and the way she digs too deep without any preface.

There’s this Maya; the small, vulnerable Maya that tries too hard to be strong for everyone else. The Maya that wants to please everyone, the Maya that puts everyone else’s needs in front of her own. He forgets that, sometimes, and this is a wake-up call for him.

“Maya…”

“Oops! I said too much, huh?” She breaks her gaze away from the fire, dragging the bucket back up onto the countertop. “Anyway, don’t worry about me. I’m as tough as nails!”

 _(Somehow… I don’t doubt that.)_ Still, Phoenix looks down at her with an admirable expression.

“I’m glad.”

“Huh?”

“N-Not that your parents passed away or your sister died or anything—” (Ugh, Phoenix, just _shut up_!) “—but that you could tell me all this. I’m glad that you trust me.”

And Maya smiles, the small type of smile where the corner of her lips tug up and her eyes crinkle in happiness, still warm and genuine all the same. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

_(We really are, aren’t we?)_

They never put a title to their relationship past co-workers before, but Phoenix knows that it’s true, and Maya does too. All the time they’ve spent together this past year, between the market trips and baking and spending their days relaxing in the hot Labyrinthian sun on their days off – it’s only come to develop their friendship. Phoenix feels it now more than ever. 

They continue their small machine-line, and though the mood seemed to dull down a bit, he still feels a heavy atmosphere surrounding them. Phoenix decides to try and lighten the mood, clearing his throat.

“Er – do you want to hear a new slogan I thought of today?”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

He smirks and takes the fresh dough from the bowl, slamming it down onto the table. “Welcome! Our bakery uses only the finest products! Upper-crust goods for not much dough!”

Maya laughs soundly. “Oh, wow, that was so lame.”

_(I dunno, I thought it was pretty clever.)_

“What, like you can do any better?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Maya pretends to think, waltzing over to the shelf that stored all their baked bread, and she takes one of the loafs from the lower level. She wields it like a sword, like one of the knights from the inquisition, walking towards Phoenix and pointing it accusingly. “Take that! Our banana bread uses only the _finest_ bananas in Labyrinthia! Watch as our banana bread makes you go bananas!”

She can’t keep a straight face after her terrible impersonation and she ends up doubling over in laughter, clutching at her stomach. Phoenix only snickers at first, but Maya’s laughter is as contagious as ever, and he finds himself having to lean against the counter to keep himself steady.

“That’s,” Maya starts between her wheezing, grabbing at empty air to try and steady herself somehow, “exactly how ridiculous you sound like when – eep!”

She cuts herself off once her ankle twists when she bumps into one of the misplaced logs on the floor, tripping backwards into the counter.

“Whoa!” – “Maya, be careful!”

Phoenix quickly catches her falling body, one hand on the small of her back and the other behind her head to prevent her from hitting the countertop. They’re pressed against the island, and much, much too close.

He doesn’t think he’s ever noticed how brown her eyes are, or how long her eyelashes are, or how defined her cheekbones look in the shadow of the dancing flames.

He gulps.

“Er, uh… thanks, Nick.” Maya looks up at him, nervous, and for a brief moment Phoenix wonders if she can feel time slowing down, too. “Um… is there something wrong…?”

_(Crap, how long have I been holding her like this?)_

“You, uh… have flour in your hair.” He finishes lamely.

There really was; it isn’t a lie. Several strands of hair escaped her bun, sticking to her face and coated with a thin layer of flour. It must’ve come from when he was pounding the dough earlier. Phoenix suddenly has the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear, and he feels like he should move – get out of this position and make his heart stop feeling that way – but his feet are rooted to where he’s standing.

“Oh, really?” There’s a teasing hint in her voice and a part of Phoenix worries that she had some sort of idea of the things he’s thinking of. She reaches up to hold his face in her hand and Phoenix blinks.

 _(Wh-What’s happening? Is this really going to happen right now? Right_ here _?)_

He doesn’t notice her other hand reaching into a bag behind her, and how it made its way around his head until he sees a cloud of white engulf his person.

“Well, now we’re even.”

_(Huh?)_

Phoenix touches the back of his head and when he brings his hand before his face, all he can see is a white powder. Maya slips out of his grasp, a devilish grin playing on her face, and that’s when Phoenix sees the bag of flour sitting on the table top.

“Argh, Maya!” He half-yells, only because he’s realized that it’s past closing hours and Patty and Espella are likely trying to get some shut-eye. “Alright, that’s it. You started this.”

Maya squeaks, dodging the handful of flour being thrown in her direction, and this continues on for a while, their conversation put behind them for now. And while the implications are still there, Maya always knows how to make any situation brighter, and Phoenix is perfectly fine with that.

By the end of it, all they’re left with are caked uniforms, a muddied floor and a near empty sack of flour that Phoenix knows they’ll have to replace in the morning.

“Wow, we really made a mess.” He says, surveying the damage. Some of the flour managed to splatter onto the walls and he cringes when he thinks of how much scrubbing they’re going to have to do tonight.

“You mean that _you_ made a mess! _I_ , for one, kept my line of fire on my target. You’re the one who kept throwing it everywhere, mister!”

He rolls his eyes, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her in the direction of the storage cabinet.

“Come on, let’s clean up before the boss sees.”

“Okay, okay, geeze.” Maya relents, stretching her arms forward and cracking her knuckles. Then, she nudges at his side, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Say, Nick… last person to finish cleaning their side has to open shop in the morning.”

“Really? Another one of your bets?” Phoenix sighs before crossing in front of her towards the cleaning supplies, grabbing a washrag. There’s a look of determination on his face when he says, “You’re on.”

“Hey, no fair!” She calls, rushing to retrieve the mop and she ends up sloshing the soapy water all over the stone floor. Phoenix only snorts at her misfortune, maneuvering around her to get to wiping down the counter.

But there’s this Maya too, he thinks to himself; the one with the ideas that were just wild enough to work, the one with the bright smile and even brighter eyes, and the bubbly laughter that could cure any type of sadness. He really is glad that he could see these parts of her that make her so uniquely _Maya_.

Phoenix is lucky to have found a friend in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this officially marks the chapter where we’re going into some of the more detailed backstories of phoenix and maya as y’all can tell, which obviously aren’t in line with game canon, but y’know… just treat it as an AU of a canon AU LOL. university started up again, so while i have everything for this fic written, it’ll take some time to deep-edit and fix flow and such, so this’ll be updated biweekly, which hopefully isn’t too bad.
> 
> again, leave a review if y’all enjoyed this chapter & i’ll see y’all again in two weeks!!


	3. Chapter 3

**_year three_ **

—

_i knew i loved you then, but you’d never know_

_‘cause i played it cool when i was scared of letting go_

_i know i needed you, but i never showed_

_but i wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old_

**—say you won’t let go, james arthur**

—

Maya Fey is losing her mind.

She _must_ be because she doesn’t understand the reason she feels like she’s sweating buckets, with her robes flush against her skin, and her heart-rate increasing by the second.

Perhaps there’s a chance that she caught a cold? _(I did fall into that pond the other day on a delivery…)_

But her head doesn’t ache, and she doesn’t feel quite nauseous.

Maya blames it on this morning, really, because this weird off feeling first began when she was rolling over in bed, cozy beneath her covers.

—

_She yawned, burying her head as deep as her pillow allowed for her to go, and she sighed in content. Sundays were her favorite kind of morning because Patty always let them sleep in a little bit longer as she went ahead and handled the morning rush._

_“Wake up, Maya,” Nick called out, voice gruff and full of sleep. He shook her shoulders for more emphasis and when she opened her eyes, bleary from sleep, she took time to pause. And then she blinked some more. Her eyes trailed, soaking in the sight. Phoenix was in a tank top, his usual sleeping wear, but he was stretching backwards with the hem of his shirt sliding up his stomach. At this point, even_ she _could tell that she’d been gawking._

_Something… was different._

_She swallowed hard, bringing the covers up to mask her face. “O-Oh. Yeah, I’m up.”_

_Phoenix raised an eyebrow, probably in concern at her behavior, but shrugged it off. “Let’s get ready, then. Almost time for our shifts.”_

_Her breathing was uneven when she let out a quiet, “Okay.”_

—

Up until this morning, Phoenix Wright was her co-worker-turned-best-friend with the spiky hair and jagged eyebrows who was just as bad at baking bread as she was. Of course, he’s gotten a lot closer to her since they’ve first met, and she feels grateful to have someone like him by her side, but _now_?

All she _really_ remembers is how the light coming from the window accentuated his body, his tan skin looking even warmer and soft. His hair was messy from his sleep, but it still fell perfectly against his face, and the way that he ran a hand through to tame it made him look slightly wilder. Maya would never admit something like this before, but Phoenix looked _good_.

And _that_ was a problem.

“Maya… what’s wrong?” Phoenix’s voice pulls her back into reality, and Maya blinks a couple times when she realizes that he’s been inching his face closer to hers, peering directly into her eyes. He presses his palm against her temple and Maya almost shivers at the touch.

 _(Ack! Why is this happening today of_ all _days?)_

“H-Huh?”

“You don’t look sick, but your body temperature is a bit high.” Phoenix frowns. “Do you think you want to rest up for today? I can tell the boss later when she comes to check up on me.”

She releases herself from his touch, walking backwards into one of the barrels on the ground and almost knocking it over. Maya holds onto the rim, trying to keep its contents steady. “N-No. I’m good, thank you.”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes! Perfectly fine! Just peachy! Hey, let’s make some bread!”

Maya grabs onto his shoulders and steers him toward the counter, though she immediately removes her hands from his body as if she’s been burned by the touch. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in one of the bowls and Maya wonders if she could possibly get anymore red.

But apparently Mia was right when she lectured her about some person named Murphy and his law about things going wrong, because things do, in fact, get worse.

His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he’s always done whenever he has to knead dough or roll it out into sections, and Maya follows the motion of his forearms as they rock back and forth to smooth the dough. For as much as she teases him about how weak he is, he’s grown a lot more muscle over the year, bulking up from all the pounding and heavy lifting from the job. It’s even more evident, now, and she feels like she’s falling into some sort of a trance.

“Maya…? Do you smell that? It’s like something’s burning…”

Maya shakes her head, willing herself out of her fantasies. And then she smells it – the familiar scent of burnt bread. Her neck snaps towards the oven, a billow of dark smoke creeping its way into the bakery. “Crap! The bread!”

When she manages to extinguish the flames and retrieve the small, burnt piece of dough she’s sure looked edible just moments before, she frowns down at the peel. It’s unsalvageable and all Maya has left to blame is Phoenix’s _arms_. _(Great. Just my luck.)_

She swivels the peel back towards the oven to return it to its spot, and in an attempt to avoid hitting the top of Phoenix’s head, she knocks herself into a bag of flour that was resting open on the floor.

Maya coughs out into the white sea of flour, a sheepish smile with a tinge of nervousness plastered on her face once she catches sight of Phoenix’s face as it cleared up.

Phoenix shakes his head, a concerned look crossing his features.

“Alright, that’s it. No ‘but’s’. You. Bed. Now.”

Her protests fall silent when he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards the door leading upstairs. Maya tries not to think too hard about the implication of his wording, focusing more on making sure her legs are working correctly and _not_ turning into jelly.

.

“Espella… what do you know about boys?”

“Boys?” Espella makes a face, bookmarking her page in her book. She does that often out of courtesy, so she can be fully engaged in the conversation. It helps more when Maya speaks, though, since she could talk on a tangent about anything. “I can’t say that I know too much about them. To be honest, the only man I really talk to is Mr. Wright, but you’re probably more familiar with him than I am.”

Maya sighs at this and Espella tilts her head, puzzled. “Why, is something the matter, Maya?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Another sigh. “Well. I mean…”

She’s on Espella’s bed, head propped up by her elbows as Eve trots along the curve of her back. After Nick put her to bed, she snuck out into the younger girl’s room out of pure boredom – it’s no fun to be bedridden when she isn’t even _sick_.

Her feet are swinging side to side in the air behind her as she confesses, carefully considering her words, “There’s this boy… I think I’m starting to see him in a different light – literally. And it’s just plain weird because I’m so close to Nick already and—”

“This is about Mr. Wright?”

Maya’s eyes widen at her slip-up. _(Dammit, she’s smart for a kid.)_

“Ah! I, uh—"

Espella is none-the-wiser, though, and her whole face lights up at this fact, gripping at her coat. “Oh, I just knew this would happen! You two get along so perfectly!” She closes her book now, fully turning in her chair to face Maya, clapping her hands together like a young school-girl who read just a little too many romance novels. “I do believe I remember that one time when you had messed up Mary’s order, and Mr. Wright had taken all the blame for you. That was rather romantic.”

“Perfectly _platonic_ , you mean. Nick would do that to anyone.”

Maya takes in a deep breath at this, and lets her eyes flutter close. She can remember the way his thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth one night, something about a crumb or maybe even a bit of flour that stuck to her lips, or the way he cozied up to her by the fire after a long day of deliveries, pressed tight against her body.

Maya wonders if this morning’s mishap was really the first time she’s felt this way – or maybe she was so good at hiding her own feelings that she couldn’t even read the signs.

She feels like she just might implode.

_(Yeah… just anyone.)_

“But there’d been the time when he caught a cold because he gave you his blanket for the winter, and he had to stay in bed for a few days. And just a while ago, you sacrificed yourself, so he wouldn’t fall into the pond. Oh, and the way he looks at you, and the way _you_ look at—"

Maya cuts her off mid-sentence, face heating up.

“Espella, I don’t think you understand. Just because I’m starting to think that Nick’s a cute older guy who happens to be someone I’m in close proximity with twenty-four seven, and makes me smile and feel butterflies and extremely happy a lot of the time _doesn’t_ mean that I like him.”

The action of saying it out loud makes the pieces click together like one of those puzzles she’s heard all about.

Eve mews knowingly, nuzzling Maya’s topknot when she plants her face into the woolen sheets. Her voice is muffled when she groans, “Oh no. Oh _no_. Espella, I like him. I like Nick. What am I going to _do?”_

Espella only laughs into the palm of her hand.

.

A few days pass without any other major blunders, and there are times when Maya starts to think that her panic must’ve been for nothing.

And then Phoenix would do something – something so small that it was near imperceptive to anyone else passing by but just enough that Maya’s heart starts to beat faster – and she finds herself thinking things over again. It’s things like taking her out to Town Centre to spend the day eating lunch by the fountain, or the way he pinches her cheeks when he teases her about how fast she eats, or how he says good morning and good night to her every day without fail.

Simple, mundane things that can mean everything and nothing at the same time.

She finds herself wondering if he notices, too, when their hands touch for a second too long when they pass each other ingredients, or that she’s long since stopped denying their relationship to each other whenever one of the townsfolk would coo and smile at the two passing by in town. She wonders if he feels her gaze on him, the same way that she feels a tingle on the back of her head, on a part of her body, whenever Nick looks at her for no reason.

She wears a sundress to one of their market trips because the weather outside was nice. It’d been one of the pieces of clothing that Mia bought for her, meaning it was sitting in her dresser untouched for far too long. It’s purple and printed with flowers, and she likes the way it cinches at her waist, flowing freely down to her knees.

Maya adjusts the straps of her dress, feeling self-conscious as she looks at herself in the small mirror that leaned against the corner of their room. It’s been a while since she’s worn anything outside of her robes and an apron, so the look is new and foreign to her.

“Maya, are you ready yet?”

There’s a knock on the side of the doorway, and the angle is just right so she can see Phoenix’s reflection through the mirror. He raises an eyebrow at her choice in outfit, and his expression is hard to read.

“You look pretty,” Phoenix comments nonchalantly, and Maya’s lips part into a small ‘o’, her own eyes widening as she registers what he said.

But it’s getting easier to pull herself out of it, so instead of dwelling on his words, she turns and smiles brightly at him. “I’m ready _now_. It’s not nice to leave a lovely lady waiting like this, so let’s go!”

Maya darts towards the door, grabbing onto his arm as she begins to walk backwards into the hallway. There’s a grin on his face, and thoughts of slipping her hand down to meet his, or what it would feel like to intertwine their fingers together when they head down the stairs, cloud her mind.

When did the line between comfortable friends and something more become so thin, so blurred?

Maya doesn’t have the answer to that, but the image of Nick sizing her up and down is being burned into her memory, so she guesses the “when’s” and “why’s” don’t matter too much.

Going with the flow of things is a Maya Fey motto.

.

And somedays, though Maya would never admit it to anyone but herself, she thinks it was easier when he was just a friend to her.

Phoenix is at the small desk they have in their room and Maya sneaks up behind him. She peers over his shoulder, eyeing the art supplies he’s gathered together on the table’s surface. He’s dragging a paintbrush against his canvas, tongue darting in concentration.

It looks something like a sunset, lines smudging against one another and painted over with layers of hues in purples and oranges and tints of blue. And while she can tell he’s still struggling; all Maya can see is potential. There’s a flash of the setting Labyrinthian sun after a stroll in Town Square, of the two of them walking back towards the bakery together to turn in for the night, and Maya does her best to shake the image away.

_(Still, he seems to be getting better.)_

She rests her chin on his shoulder, arms crossed on top of the back of the chair, and she can feel his body stiffen at the sudden touch. The way his breath hitches excites her more than anything.

“You should draw something for me, one day,” she says.

After Phoenix realizes that it’s just her, he visibly relaxes, leaning back into his chair. “Maya, commissions aren’t free.”

He smells of painting oils and buttered croissants. Maya secretly inhales his scent a little bit more before pulling herself away, setting a distance between them. She’s more careful, now. More aware of her feelings with each passing moment, and each touch they share together feels more like a guilty pleasure than it does friendship.

“Neither is saving your butt every time the boss catches you doing something wrong, like throwing away perfectly good bread.”

“It’s not perfectly good if it fell onto the floor!”

She sits down on her bed, taking one of her pillows and holding it close to her body. She doesn’t know whether it’s to prolong the conversation or because she’s genuinely curious, but Maya asks, “Why are you drawing anyway? I thought you put that behind you.”

“Yeah, well, I need to put it back in front of me. Once I get better at… er, _this_ ,” he fumbles with his painting supplies, and several paintbrushes roll back and forth unsteadily on the table, “then I won’t have to lie to my parents anymore and I can go back. That’s the plan.”

“Oh,” Maya says, “right.”

The _plan_.

He’s mentioned this once before, about the bakery being a temporary thing, and the thought is so unsettling that she clutches her pillow tighter. Thinking about it is painful, and she just wants to sleep.

The fatigue that seeps into her voice when she continues to talk is only half-forced. “Well, keep painting, Nick. I won’t bother you anymore, ‘cause I dunno about you, but today’s rush made me _tired_.”

“Good night, Maya.” He smiles at her before turning his attention back to his canvas, and somehow it makes her heart feel tighter.

Maya pulls her beads from her hair and lets her topknot loose before laying down in the bundle of covers. She rolls over to her side, looking at his working figure from her bed.

_(That’s right. He won’t be here with me forever.)_

She just wants to savor the time they have left together. It could very well be years, maybe even months if Phoenix keeps working hard at it. It’s like an hourglass or something close to that.

And even though her heart aches, having just come to terms with her own feelings, she’ll be okay with it. What more could she ask for, anyway?

_(Nick probably thinks of me as a little girl. As his co-worker. Nothing more.)_

Her eyes feel heavy and soon enough, they droop to a close. The last thing she sees before she falls asleep is Phoenix’s silhouette in the candlelight, crouched over the table in concentration.

Maya wishes, only to herself, that he would stay like that forever – in this bakery forever, with her forever.

Time is ticking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot less bread, a lot more feelings. i don't have too much left to say other than i'll still be updating biweekly & i appreciate every single one of you reading this silly fic about bakers!!


	4. Chapter 4

**_year four_ **

—

_so i could take the backroad_

_but your eyes will lead me straight back home_

_and if you know me like i know you_

_you should love me, you should know_

**—friends, ed sheeran**

—

_“Nick!!!”_

_Phoenix recognizes her voice in an instant – after all, it was the one keeping him going throughout the entire trial. Still, the very sound makes his stomach twist and turn, and he’s sure that his neck would crack louder than Franziska’s whip if he turns around any faster._

_It’s her._

_She’s alive. She’s fine. She’s_ here _, right in front of him._

_“M-M-M… Maya!”_

_“Mystic Maya! Mystic Mayaaaaaaa!” Pearl hiccups, one hand clutching onto the hem of his coat, and the other rubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe._

_Tears are brimming Maya’s eyes, and she lets out a small, strangled sob as she runs across the lobby towards him and Pearl, crushing them with a hug. Her face is pressed against his chest and he can feel the mess of tears and snot she’s probably making on his suit. Right now, though, he could care less. He pulls the two of them closer to him, just content that the three of them were together again._

_Just like how it should be._

_He almost lost her. If things didn’t end up how they did, he might very well have gotten an acquittal and put an innocent woman in jail, or maybe Engarde would’ve been found guilty with Shelly de Killer’s insurance. Then all he would have left of Maya was her letter, a shaky scrawl on the back of an old picture, and her magatama. She would’ve been gone due to his incapability to keep her safe in the first place, and maybe that’s what makes him feel unnerved the most._

_He’s silent for a while after she releases them from the hug. She is focused on wiping away Pearl’s tears and he’s lost in his own ‘what if’s.’ Maya looks up at him, pursing her lips and drawing her eyebrows together, and she lays a hand on his arm. The touch is gentle, but it’s enough to bring him back down to the ground._

_“Oh, Nick. I knew you would come through,” she says, warmth and a little something more that he couldn’t really decipher woven into her voice, and Phoenix wills himself not to break down crying. Today was already too much, but she’s really_ here _, safe and sound though she looked so fragile; like she should be recuperating in a hospital rather than in front of him in the courthouse._

_Maya presses on, undeterred by the lack of response, “You got Engarde convicted, like I knew you would. And on top of that, you even rescued me!”_

_He wonders briefly if she was only here because she begged Detective Gumshoe to let her see them once they rescued her. It’s something Maya would do, and the thought causes the corners of his lips twitch into something of a smile._

_She was a lot stronger than he was throughout this whole situation, but that’s how it always is. That’s how_ Phoenix and Maya _work._

_He pulls her into another hug, just the two of them this time, because feeling her – touching her – makes her feel more real. After everything, he needs that security._

(Maya… what would I do without you?)

.

The dream ends in a blur of vignettes with a silly cast of characters and some futuristic city. Phoenix stares up at the ceiling in their room, sucking in another deep breath and waiting for his heart to still.

He’s used to it now; these dreams have been happening for some time, perhaps around when he started working here, but they’re random and come and go as they please. Sometimes it’s every night for a week. Other times it’s once every other month. But they’re there and the world is consistent, and these are the dreams he remembers the most.

In his dreams, he’s something called a ‘lawyer’, vaguely resembling the defenders they have here in Labyrinthia, and Maya’s his trusty assistant. They travel the city together fighting for true justice, and for the most part, Phoenix finds these dreams a breath of fresh air.

This one was a bit too heavy-hearted for him, though. Someone kidnapped Maya, and it was a race against time for him to rescue her. And while the dream ended happily enough, his stomach is still stirring, and he feels uneasy.

He turns to his side, facing Maya’s bed, and there’s a part of him that’s half-expecting her to be gone. Half-expecting something from his dream to become true, even though he desperately wants the image to disappear from his mind. The image of her disappearing, the image of his close calls in court, the image of her, weary and tired and broken when she shows up in that courtroom lobby after he almost failed her. Failed himself.

She’s fast asleep, and he can see the rise and fall of her body beneath her covers. The only source of light in the room is from the small stream of moonlight pouring through the window; the candle on the small table in the center of the room having already flickered out, but he can see her clearly.

_(She’s safe here, too, at least. Still…)_

He sighs, sitting up and letting his legs hang off his bed. Phoenix runs a hand through his hair to fix his bedhead before making his move towards his side of the dresser for his suit, quiet enough not to wake Maya up.

There’s no chance he’s getting sleep anytime soon, so he supposes he might as well head out for the night.

.

Phoenix doesn’t come here often – this part of town isn’t very well known for being a great place for visitors – but the grape juice is good, and the bartender never pries too much. Right now, that’s exactly what he needs.

Business is slow, as expected of a cold Wednesday night. He finds himself sitting in a bar stool, waiting patiently for Rouge, the tavern owner, to pour him another glass of juice.

He’s in the middle of retelling his dream to her, now, even though he doesn’t have any recollection of how the conversation began. All he knows is that the words are flowing, and they aren’t stopping. The dream is on constant replay in his mind – the most vivid his dreams have ever been – and he’s antsy to talk to someone about it.

“It felt real, being in that situation where I could’ve lost her. I mean, this is a whole different world my mind’s created, and I _know_ that. I know that it doesn’t exist. And yet…” Phoenix lets out a dragged, weary sigh. “I just feel terrible, like she really could’ve died because of me, even if it _is_ all a dream.”

Rouge places a new glass of fresh grape juice down in front of him, quirking an eyebrow.

“You know, kid, people say that every dream has a meaning. And this ‘Maya’ is…?”

“We, uh, work at the bakery together.” He takes a swig from his glass, the rich taste of grape dancing on his taste-buds, and it’s just enough to give him the confidence to continue with his story. “She’s grown on me a lot. She’s like my best friend.”

“Just a friend, huh?” Rouge prompts, and the suggestive nature of her voice doesn’t pass over his head. It’s been brought up to them time and time again, so it’s not a new assumption from anyone in this town.

His response is automatic when he says, shrugging, “I mean, there’s nothing more to it. Just two simple bread-making bakers, living a simple bread-making life.”

Rouge’s tone is thick with disbelief as she presses on, “And yet here you are, beating yourself up over a dream. You sure care an awful lot for being just ‘simple bread-making bakers.’”

And while Phoenix could scoff at that, possibly steer the conversation somewhere else, there’s a nagging voice in his head. It reminds him of Maya’s, worried and digging too deep into something that’s not there, or maybe that’s just what he keeps telling himself.

(Is there really no other reason why you feel so bad about this? About why the thought of losing Maya has you all torn up inside?)

 _(Of course she’s important to me.)_ Phoenix wants to protest _. (She’s the person closest to me.)_

(Is that all, though?) His subconscious says back, and it’s harder when he fights himself like this because his mind always knew how to retaliate.

“…Maybe it’s just easier to think of her like that,” he finds himself saying aloud, staring past Rouge at nothing in particular.

Before he realizes it, he’s walking down memory lane, remembering all the times there might’ve been something happening between them. Something _more._

He thinks of days when they do their laundry together in the river and her bubbly laugh when they mess around and almost lose all their clothes in the stream. He thinks of nights when he looks at her, with her tongue stuck out in concentration as she measures how much oil they need for their dough, and how lucky he is to have someone like her by his side. He thinks of her, bright and happy and _Maya_ , and how he immediately feels himself smiling back whenever she did.

Rouge begins to gather empty drinks littered across the countertop, and the sound of clinking glass manages to drag him out of his thoughts.

“Sure, it’s easier. But hiding is what cowards do, so I’d go right ahead and label you one.” Rouge smirks, shrugging. “So, let’s cut the crap, kid. How do you really feel?”

(How do I _feel_?) He doesn’t know – or more like he can’t put it into words. What Phoenix Wright feels for Maya Fey is indescribable, even to himself.

He tries anyway, for Rouge’s sake. For his sake.

“If I lost her, I don’t know what I’d do. I know that sounds hopeless, but maybe I am. I… don’t know right now.”

He’s always been aware of that, Phoenix thinks, but never sure enough to know what it means.

Rouge wipes a wet glass clean with a washrag, looking at it with one eye to check for any missed spots when she speaks up, “Here’s some advice, kid. Realize what you have before it’s gone. There’s something there, behind all your dreams and pent up feelings and all the other rough, emotional stuff you have going on. It’d do you good to say something before it’s too late.”

With that, she leaves him to tend to other guests. He swirls his juice around, leaving a film around the sides of the glass, and it’s enough to distract him for a while.

_(Maybe Rouge’s right. I probably need to do something about it. But what can I do…?)_

(Tell her. Let her know.) The vague voice in the back of his mind offers. It’s tempting.

He can protect her as a friend. He’s sure of that. They can continue how they are, never really crossing the line and never really sticking on one side, either. But there’s a part of him that wants _more_ , a part that is growing steadily and more passionate as time passes. His dreams are evidence that being friends is starting to not be enough for him.

There’s something very telling in that even in his dreams, there is no Phoenix Wright without Maya Fey.

Rouge returns to take his glass, and there’s a fire in his eyes, full of determination. He’s made up his mind. He _wants_ more. He wants to hold her, to kiss her, to keep her close and safe.

With a nod of his head, he clears his throat, a vague response to her advice leaving his mouth. It’s a very simple, yet powerful, “Maybe I will.”

When he turns in for the night, rewrapping his scarf around his neck, Rouge throws him a wry smile.

“Good luck. Say, after you take my advice, stop by and I’ll get you your usual – on the house.”

.

The first thing that he sees when he opens the door into their bedroom is Maya, sitting up in her bed with her gaze steadfast on the doorway. She’s in her nightgown, and it looks more translucent in the freshly lit candlelight than he’s noticed before, and he catches the way the hem of her gown had ridden up her thigh.

He looks away immediately, heat rising to his face as he tries his best to avert her ever-curious gaze.

She gets out of bed, padding over to the door with her eyebrows knitted together. “Nick, where have you _been?_ I’ve been waiting for you to come home for _hours_.” Maya says, her voice almost rising above a whisper, and she pauses for a moment to calm herself down. “Okay, not hours, but _still_ … I woke up for water and you weren’t in bed.”

Maya pulls at the sleeve of her nightgown, a frown on her face. “I was worried.”

“Sorry, Maya. I needed some fresh air.” Phoenix says apologetically. He isn’t lying – he did need to get some air. It just so happens that fresh air turned into a drink or two which manifested into a realization of sorts. It’s funny how things work like that.

Phoenix moves past her, his body feeling like it’s on fire. He quickly makes to peel off his scarf, and then his coat, and he sits on his bed. He takes a deep breath, hanging his head.

She follows him, sitting on the small space next to him on the corner of his bed, her small legs dangling off the edge. Maya’s never been tall enough to touch the floor, and the image of her pouting that she’s just waiting for the growth spurt that will likely never come is almost enough to break him out of his slump; almost enough to make him smile.

Maya has that effect on him _._ He’s in awe. _(How long did it take me to realize that?)_

She dips her own head down so that she can meet his eyes, and she peers into them when she asks, “Are you okay?”

Phoenix inhales, holding it for a while as he wills himself not to say anything stupid.

“…Yeah. I’m fine. I’m home now, aren’t I?” Phoenix lays a hand on her head and musses up her bangs. She scrunches her nose at this, swatting at his hand as he continues, “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

And Maya pouts, and Phoenix smiles, and for the first time since he’s woken up tonight, he feels alright. The uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach starts to subside.

_(Home, huh?)_

Maya gives him one last look, staring directly into his eyes and he can make out the unspoken message _– ‘I’m here if you need me’_ – woven into her expression. She rests her hand on top of his, squeezing briefly, and he swears that his heartrate picks up at the touch before she stands up to head over to her side of the room.

Phoenix watches as she sinks back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chest, and bids him good night.

He stays sitting on the edge of his bed for a while, calming himself down with breathing exercises and waiting for his heart to stop beating so quickly.

There’s a new resolve for him.

Phoenix is in Labyrinthia for his own reasons, as an escape of sorts. He’s continuing for Patty, for Espella, and even for Eve.

But it’s always been Maya rooting him here. He knows that now.

_(…Yeah. This is home.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**_year five_ **

—

_there’s no place i’d rather be_

_than to be with you, right in front of me_

_with our lips locked, our eyes closed shut_

_and no one else but us_

**—handle with care, jr aquino**

—

“Maya, remember how I told you that this whole baker thing was supposed to be temporary until I got my act together? Well, lately, I’ve been rethinking that. I want to stay here and become a fully-fledged baker and all… _with you_.”

He shakes his head, his serious expression falling to a more nervous, sheepish look as he rocks back and forth on his knees. “Well, how was that, Eve?”

Phoenix stares at the black cat while Eve peers up curiously at him. Then, realizing how silly the entire situation is, he hangs his head in resignation, shoulders drooping forward.

_(What am I doing, talking to a cat?)_

“I personally find it a bit too dramatic for an ‘I like you,’ but just as charming as ever, Mr. Wright.”

_(H-Huh? Did Eve…?)_

The cat just mews, trotting over to the door and pawing at the source of the voice. He follows Eve’s trail, eyes sweeping upwards until he spies a familiar face.

“O-Oh, it’s just you, Espella.” He scrambles to get up from the floor, brushing off the dust from his knees and his arm swings back to rub at the nape of his neck.

“Thank you for watching over Eve for me while I was away,” Espella says, pulling off the hood of her cloak and setting down her basket full of new books onto the tabletop. With one swift movement, she begins to unpack them onto the floor, kneeling on the ground to sort them into her small bookcase. With her back turned, she comments, “Today’s the big day, is it? I heard Aunt Patty gave you two the day off on short notice.”

“The big day…?”

Espella turns back to him with a smile, the corners of her lips curling up knowingly. “For you and Maya, of course. By the sound of it, it seems like you’re planning on confessing.”

 _(Ack! Did she hear_ everything _?)_

Despite the initial shock, he nods firmly, eyes set with determination. There’s no avoiding it now.

“Yeah, if everything goes as planned, then today’s the day. I’ve decided that.”

“Well, I’m glad that you two have decided to stop dancing around each other,” she says. “I wish you luck with everything, Mr. Wright!”

_(‘Stopped dancing around each other’? Did everyone in this town know about this before even I did? …Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.)_

“Niiiiick!” Maya calls from the other end of the hallway, her voice traveling into Espella’s room, alerting him that she’s ready for their outing. “Are you done yet?”

Just the sound of her voice makes Phoenix feel even more anxious and soon he’s struggling to fix his tie and smooth his hair back again. He even hops in place for a bit, trying to shake the jitters off.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave. Thanks, Espella. I’ll need all the luck I can get on my side.” He smiles earnestly back at Espella, excusing himself to retrieve Maya from their room.

To be honest, Phoenix isn’t quite sure where this may lead him – _them_ ; what it might mean for their future or even their present, but he’s willing to cross the distance anyway. He would do a lot of things for Maya.

.

If there’s one thing about Labyrinthia that Phoenix Wright despises, it’s the puzzles.

“Maya… remember how I told you—”

“Boo- _hoo_!”

“Will ya just stop crying? No one will ever want to help a wimp like you if you keep wailin’ like that!”

“Oh, come on, Nick. The kids want us to help them with a puzzle. Er, whatever that is. It can’t be _that_ bad, right?”

_(Yeah. It’s definitely the puzzles.)_

He was never good at them when he first went exploring around Labyrinthia and townsfolk would walk up to him for his help, and he isn’t good at them now. Scoring a job helped him stay away from that since the two always spent their time in the bakery or doing chores, so Phoenix would never have to encounter a puzzle other than once in a rare blue moon.

This happens to be one of those times.

The way that Maya’s tugging at his sleeve and staring at him with those big puppy-dog eyes makes it even harder to deny them. Besides, the poor kid is _crying_ – Phoenix isn’t _heartless_ , and he always finds himself a sucker for children.

Cecil sucks in another breath, biting his bottom lip to quell his tears but still failing terribly. His nose is runny and red, and the tears pouring down his cheeks at an absurd rate makes Phoenix’s heart want to burst.

“Boo-hoo… I’ll never be able to be a knight at this rate…”

Phoenix bends down until he’s face-to-face with Cecil, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder and saying softly, “Hey, Cecil. You don’t have to cry. Look, we’ll help you out, okay?”

“Yeah!” Maya says, lowering herself down to the ground as well. “With our help, you’ll be ready to become a knight in no time!”

“Yes, yes, he needs all the help that he can get! Just get him to stop cryin’ already!” Petal snarks, releasing her brother’s hand to grab hold of the fabric around the neck of his shirt, wrapping it into a fist. She starts to wildly thrash him around in an attempt to shake him out of it, and it only makes Cecil bawl louder.

Phoenix sighs, letting Cecil explain the puzzle he’s stuck on – one that all ‘knights in training’ are supposed to be able to solve, apparently – through loud hiccups. Every now and then, he lets his gaze trail over to Maya, her fists clenched in concentration, hanging onto each and every word the young boy says, and Phoenix supposes this is fine. _(Today’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?)_

.

The scene feels set. It’s his chance, now, he decides in the middle of their small picnic when she’s busy gulping down buttered bread and the smile on his face is growing dopier and dopier.

It isn’t close to what he was expecting. He was aiming for a quaint picnic on the outskirts of the town, but Maya was busy trapezing all over Labyrinthia to look at all the things she’s never really had time for before. Phoenix couldn’t exactly say no at the pout on her face when she started telling him that she was too tired to make it past the bend.

Town Centre’s fountain is quite pretty, either way.

They’re eating the lunch that Patty prepared for them this morning – she insisted, after all, giving Phoenix a wink that he wasn’t exactly sure of its meaning and pushing neatly wrapped sandwiches and bread into their picnic basket. He’s slightly glad that Patty continued to mother them so because he’s sure that her food is still on a whole different level than something he would have made.

Maya looks up from unwrapping another half of a sandwich, in the middle of licking away at a spot of mayonnaise that got on her thumb. She cocks her head, probably noticing the way that he was smiling at her. “Hm? Is there something wrong?”

Phoenix inhales.

This is it.

“Maya, remember—”

The strum of a lute gathers their attention, front and center, to two minstrels shouting over each other across the fountain.

“Doth should be prepared to move, cross ‘yonder ‘til he begins to improve! His act is but a joke, should do good to stop before he chokes.”

“Sorry,” she just about yells into his ear over the sound of Bardly singing, each line becoming louder than the next, “What did you say?”

He clears his throat, throwing a glare at the two and hoping that they get the message. They don’t pay him any attention.

So, he tries again, raising his voice.

“Remember… remember how I—”

“’Tis not I who must leave, for our loss would cause townsfolk to grieve.” Birdly picks the strings on his lute, swaying gracefully to his own tune. Some people off to the side of them look on in awe at the sight. “We cannot be beat, by a simple bard who cannot compete!”

Birdly’s parrot, nestling further into his shoulder, coos in response.

Phoenix can see Bardly’s knuckles growing white as he grips harder onto his lute, growling in frustration. With the way he starts to strum again, Phoenix thinks that his instrument might just break altogether. It wouldn’t be the first time this year.

Their age-old rivalry was beginning to grow stale, seeing as he could even hear their sparring from their room in the bakery, and this was the last straw towards grating for him. Not to mention the growing crowd at their expense, gathering around the fountain, with half of the townsfolk cheering for Birdly and the other half Bardly.

_(What is so appealing about rhyming and instruments with these people? This isn’t even entertainment… they’re barely even singing!)_

He can only groan into his own sandwich, drowned out by the cheering coming from the crowd.

“Nick!” she shouts again, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, I really can’t hear you. It’s not too important, right? Tell me later, okay?”

“Er—okay.”

Phoenix can’t help the way that he bites into his sandwich rather aggressively.

Next on the growing list of things that Phoenix hates about Labyrinthia, as ironic as it sounds, is its street artists.

.

Or maybe it’s goats. And barrels.

…Perhaps Labyrinthia isn’t all he’s cracked it up to be.

It happens when he’s rehearsing his lines in his head, preparing himself for the next opportunity. Maya’s finds herself occupied by the sights of the marketplace – instead of only visiting their usual food stalls, they now have the opportunity to explore and she was taking it in with a child-like fervor.

“Well, Nick?” Maya waggles a small trinket in front of him, a hairpin or accessory of some sort that he couldn’t really distinguish. It doesn’t matter to him, though, because she holds it against her hair, smiling brightly, and he almost feels himself melt. “How does it look? D’ya think I should get it?”

He’s about to open his mouth to reply with something like a compliment, or maybe even an offer to pay for it himself, when he’s interrupted by a shrill cry that travels throughout the market.

“Please, someone! Snowy’s gotten loose!”

The sound of bleating and the jingling of a collar makes the situation crystal clear: a goat was left to rampage the town. There’s a quick flash of white before them, and it’s enough to make the two look at each other questioningly.

“Um… was that…?” Phoenix gulps.

Maya stares on in amazement. “Uh, I think so…”

Mary, the owner of the farm where they’ve always gotten their milk from, runs through the plaza, one hand clutching at her hat and the other lifting the hem of her dress so that she wouldn’t trip. She looks frantically around the market, sweat dripping down her forehead.

“Snooowy!” she yells once more, increasing her speed to try and catch up with her goat.

Snowy takes this moment to make a break for it, moving at a faster speed, and Phoenix watches as he runs right into a rather… furry barrel off in a suspicious looking alleyway near their stand.

The barrel grumbles to life, the furry stack that’s laying on top of it forming a human body erupting from the barrel. Snowy has obviously angered it – whatever ‘ _it’_ was.

“RRRRRAAAWWWRRRRRR!”

“Aaaaah!” Mary shrieks, and it seems as though even Snowy finds himself shocked at the sudden appearance of the kid in the barrel, jolting backward.

“Eep!” the stall owner squeaks, cowering in fear, and Phoenix feels Maya’s hands instinctively wrapping around his arm. _(What the…? Is that a_ kid _?!)_

“Why you touch home?! No touchy-touch!” the kid growls, waving the long sleeves of his worn sweater around. He looks like he’s barely seen the light of day. He bares his teeth, snarling at the goat, “Barrel not for leaning! Barrel not for goats!”

Snowy bleats, galloping away from the noise.

“Snowy! Get back here! Oh, somebody help me, please!”

The goat approaches them rather quickly, barely scraping by the two of them and only slightly knocking their legs into each other. Phoenix loses his footing and he feels himself fall backward into the stand, to which Maya moves, wrapping her arms around his torso and catching him before he crashes.

“Whoa, there, Nick!” Maya yelps, struggling to keep him steady in her grasp. And then, she giggles, “Goat get your tongue?”

At this, Phoenix quickly disentangles himself from Maya’s hold, his cheeks heating up and making careful to avoid her eyes.

“O-oh, shut up. You were just as scared as I was.” He gestures wildly to the kid inside the barrel, who is currently tidying up the little scuff marks that Snowy left. “Anyway, how was _I_ supposed to know someone lived in that barrel?”

Maya only shakes her head, tutting and returning the hairpiece back to the stand, leaving the stall owner cowering beneath the wooden counter. “You need to stop having such narrow-minded assumptions. Home can be whatever you want it to be, even if it’s a barrel!”

.

They’re sitting in Town Square, on _their_ bench – the one where the view of the bell tower perfectly complemented with the glaring sun, the one that was in the middle of the bustle of the town but just private enough that they could have their own conversations without any eavesdropping ears.

Phoenix likes the sound of something being _theirs_ , so he decides that he could at least put an end to the not-so-perfect day with the perfect atmosphere. It’s the one place besides the bakery that Phoenix knows will never let him down.

Maya stretches her back out against the bench, rolling her shoulders back and letting out a satisfied noise.

“Oh man, today’s been fun. _Almost_ just as fun as that one time you tripped and fell into the river while we were washing laundry,” Maya does her best to hold back another giggle. “We should do something like this again instead of just doing chores on our days off!”

He smiles. “Yeah, we should.”

The slight breeze that blows into town makes him shiver. He watches as Maya fights against the wind, her long hair whipping against her face and her beads clashing together. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he begins to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about all day.” He glances around them nervously, even leaning himself against the back of the bench and peering behind him. No minstrels, no goats, and definitely no puzzles. He sighs in relief.

“Yeah, what’s up, Nick?”

“Maya, remember when… when…”

His mind goes blank. He’s spent all day practicing this one phrase that a part of him can’t believe he’s blanking when he finally has a chance to say it.

So, he does what he’s grown to do best. Bluff until he gets to the result that he wants. It works well enough when Patty asks him about the milk they forgot to replace, or when he feeds some of the strays that gather around the bakery some of the bread that’s growing stale, mostly due to Maya’s insistence, so he only hopes that it’ll work now.

It’s time to go off-script.

“Er—we’ve been getting a lot closer recently, right? And, uh, you’re really nice, the best friend anyone could ask for. And you make me feel not so hopeless all the time and your hair always smells really nice—” _(Too off-script, too_ off-script _! Think, Phoenix, think!)_ “Okay. You see, the point is—"

“I like you too, Nick,” Maya says, shyly at first, and then with all the confidence she can muster.

“H-Huh?!” _(She was able to understand that? Did I hear her correctly?)_ “How did you—"

“You’re easy to read,” she says simply, and then she starts to look a little bit guilty, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “Plus, a little red robin hood might’ve let something slip earlier today before we left…”

_(Espella…)_

“So… you feel the same way?”

“I just said that, didn’t I?” Maya teases, relaxing back into the bench. Then, she looks him in the eye, a more serious tone in her voice. “I do like you, Nick. Between all the pointing and shouting and clumsiness, you sure are likable.”

_(I… I can’t believe this. Was it supposed to be this easy?)_

“Even the lame catchphrases?”

“ _Especially_ the lame catchphrases.” She claps her hands together, grinning. “My _personal_ favorite is the one where you almost shove the entire loaf of bread in their face and shout ‘our bakery uses the finest—'"

The tips of his ears burn read when he shakes his hands, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Okay, okay, I concede. You definitely like me.”

“Which means we like _each other_.”

He lets this statement sink in, stunned.

_(It took me so long to figure out my feelings for her, and she went along and had them this whole time?)_

They sit like that for a while, basking in the comfort of the silence, the heat of the sun, and each other’s presence. Phoenix feels the most at ease he’s been all day.

“Oh, that’s right… I have something for you.”

Phoenix rustles through the things they’ve brought along with them from their picnic. There’s something square and bulky hidden under a cloth in the picnic basket, and he’s been saving it for just this moment. The canvas is small, just slightly bigger than both of his hands combined; it’s a splash of oranges and yellows and blues, the culmination of what he’s spent long nights trying his best to perfect.

He gingerly places the canvas into her hands, feeling nervous about his artwork. “It’s my best piece at the moment. Once I get better, I’ll make you a new one.”

“No, I love it,” she says at once, shaking her head.

Her face says otherwise, though, her lips spreading into a thin line as she looks at the canvas resting on her lap. Phoenix feels a pang of disappointment.

“Are you sure…?”

“It’s not that – I really do, Nick.” Maya sounds exasperated, her grip on the painting tightening. “But… you’re leaving soon, huh?”

He shakes his head firmly. “I’m here to stay. I decided that a while ago.”

There’s a flash of confusion that passes on her face at this. Still, her eyebrows remain knitted together, and she continues, the words slowly leaving her mouth, “What about your parents?”

Suddenly, things start to click into place. Why she seemed upset at the painting, why she was too afraid to tell him about her feelings, and her current apprehension. It’s all starting to make sense to him. The corner of his lips quirks into a smile.

“Is that what you’re so worried about?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, and his smile only grows at the bewilderment on Maya’s face. He takes her hand in his, hoping that the sweat that accumulated on his palms has dried up by now. “There’s nothing you have to worry about, Maya.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came clean to them a few months ago, and we’ve been sending a few letters back and forth since. They’re sad, of course, but they support me. I, er, also mentioned you here and there. My mom really wants to meet you one day.”

“You told them about _me?_ Really?”

“They wanted to know why I wanted to be stuck in a bakery. I’ve been wondering about that too – about exactly why I’ve been staying here for so long even though I’m still not any better than baking than I was a couple years ago.” Phoenix pauses, making careful to look at her in the eye when he continues, “I found my reason in you.”

Maya’s frozen for a second before softly punching him in the arm. His serious expression breaks down into something more playful as he rubs at the spot she hit.

“Pfft, when did you become so cheesy? Have you been borrowing those romance novels from Espella or something?” She jokes, though her expression is bright, and she clutches the canvas closer to her chest.

And though she could protest and yell, she’s straightforward with her feelings. “Well, good. You better be staying. After all, the boss hasn’t given you your lecture for knocking down the display in front of the bakery and I’m not receiving that all by myself!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

With the way that she beams up at him, Phoenix decides that the sun is unnecessary when it comes to her. She is his sunlight, too.

.

They’ve just finished helping Patty close for the night, despite the boss’s insistent cries that she could do it all by herself. It’s the same between them, really, but there are times when they catch each other’s eyes in the middle of sweeping and bringing in the display baskets. The looks that they share feel more intimate; more real.

He’s in the middle of hanging his coat when he hears wood scraping, and he turns to catch Maya in the middle of pushing his bed away from its original position by the window. The sleeves of her nightgown are rolled up to her elbows, her hair pulled into a messy bun to keep it out of her way, though her fringe hangs loosely to frame her face.

“M-Maya! What are you...?”

She presses her index finger to his lips, successfully shutting him up. “Shh, you’re so _loud_ , Nick. Help a girl out, will ya? I can’t lift this bed by myself.”

His face is beet red, but he helps her out anyway. After a bit of physical activity and struggling to maneuver the bed around the table, the bed finally sits in the middle of the room, right next to Maya’s – as if it was one big bed. The sight takes his breath away.

She climbs into the bed, wiggling beneath the covers, and she pats the space next to her for him to come join in. Phoenix climbs into his bed, though he leaves an awkward gap between them, partly because he didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.

“Erm… what are we…?” he whispers, pulling at the collar of his undershirt. “Won’t the boss be, um…”

“We’re together now, aren’t we?” At this, Phoenix gives a nod – they didn’t talk about their ‘title’ yet, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Maya grins impishly. “See, now I can do _this.”_

Maya closes the gap that Phoenix left, burying her head into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Maya sighs in content, and Phoenix notices that she fits perfectly in the curve of his body, resting his chin on the top of her head and wrapping his own arms around her. Her head rests on his arm, and he knows he’s going to feel numb the next day, but _it’s Maya_ , so he braces himself for the night of pain ahead of him.

After a moment, Maya removes herself from his chest to look up at him, a wide smile playing on her lips.

Phoenix looks down at her, the grin forming on his face before he can even realize what’s happening. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead.

_(She’s so… cute.)_

And then he pauses, his gaze catching on a film of white powder on a couple of strands of her hair. His eyebrows raise.

“There’s flour in your hair,” he says, dumbly, his fingers pinching the loose strand to rub away at the small amount of flour. Then, he moves to tuck the strand of hair behind her ear, eyes trailing back to her face as his hands cup her cheek.

“I know,” she says, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s cue enough for him.

Phoenix dips his head down, using his index finger placed beneath her chin to guide hers up towards his, and captures her lips with his. It’s lazy and warm, and everything he’s expected it to be. She runs a hand through his hair, messing with the soft spikes, and her other hand rests on his chest.

Labyrinthia used to be very foreign to him; as was baking. There’s a faint memory in the back of his mind about burnt bread and floury floors, the uncomfortable bite of his bed and the humid nights his first few nights here.

But _this_?

Phoenix draws her as close as he can manage, and his tongue brushes lightly across the barrier between her lips, and Maya obliges. It’s not perfect, clumsier than anything with their noses knocking together awkwardly and soft laughter bubbling from their chests. But looking into her eyes whenever they pull away from each other – half-lidded and full of emotion – he supposes that it’s as perfect as it can get.

He can definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone that’s reading & much, much love to those who have left me nice comments and feedback. y’all are so wonderful & i’m super happy that this lil fic brings you as much joy as it does for me. we’re almost at the end!!


	6. Chapter 6

**_EPILOGUE – present day_ **

—

_and in this crazy life and through these crazy times_

_it’s you, it’s you, you make me sing_

_you’re every line, you’re every word_

_you’re everything_

**—everything, michael bubl** **é**

—

“You know,” Maya says, pouting, “I thought you’d be a lot better at this.”

“And what gave you that idea?”

“I dunno! I’m just disappointed! Why can’t you catch any of the popcorn?!”

Maya flicks a piece of popcorn in his direction for emphasis, giving him little time to react and it ends up barely hitting his mouth.

“I _dunno,_ ” he says dryly, reaching into the bag of popcorn they just purchased from one of the street vendors, and he takes a piece between in his fingers, “maybe it’s your aim.”

Maya tosses another one in the air with a flick of her thumb, catching it in her own mouth perfectly. She grins at him while she chews, exaggerating her swallow.

Phoenix only frowns in response, though it easily fades away with time as they continue their trek through big city London.

Their trip feels a lot more calmer, now that everything that’s gone off-track has settled itself, with the situation in Labyrinthia being cleared up. The last thing he’s seen of the mysterious city was the pure black machinations of the Storyteller’s plan being torn down as Inquisitor Barnham guided the four of them back to the mainland.

And with that, the two finally found themselves having time off to continue their initial plans for when the Legal League of Attorneys first invited Phoenix to Europe – sightsee.

Their vacation was coming to an end much quicker than they anticipated, so Maya and Phoenix opted to spend their last few days around the city, with Professor Layton and Luke as their tour guides.

Now, though, they broke path with the two with an intent to meet up later for dinner so that they can tackle some of the bigger landmarks and tourist attractions Maya’s been dying to see since they landed. Tower Bridge seems to be her big focus at the moment, and Phoenix wonders if she just has some sort of spiritual attraction to large bodies of water. He wouldn’t put it past her, after all.

After a while of Maya insisting on throwing popcorn at him until he can catch a piece in his mouth, they sit themselves down on a bench, somewhere amidst the crowd of tourists. For a moment, it vaguely reminds him of another situation, in another time.

Maya takes a handful of popcorn from the bag, popping them one by one into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully, rubbing the salty dust from her fingers once she finishes her popcorn, turning away from Phoenix when she mentions, “Those five years the Storyteller – er… Espella’s dad – wrote about us being bakers… you remember it too, right?”

It was harder to forget, really, when he was broken of the Storyteller’s spell and the memories of his life as a defense attorney returned to him all at once. The bakery, Labyrinthia – it was the one thing to continue lingering on his mind, to be honest.

He felt everything this “other Phoenix” felt, as though he lived through these memories; as though the five years he supposedly spent in the bakery with her were real. It was a lot to take in – his own feelings, Maya’s feelings, and the way they held hands and kissed beneath the covers were big enough in their own right.

There really was a whole other world where they were together, like _that_ , and they both experienced it in some sort of way. He feels slightly cheated that he hasn’t actually lived this life but kept the memories anyway, and that it was just some spell conjured up with a scrawl of a quill and some mysterious ink.

Still, it opened his eyes to a lot of things he’s been skirting around recently.

This whole trip, for example. There was something _more_ behind it than just sightseeing.

Since the Hazakura Temple incident, the weird tension and feelings that have been surfacing between the two of them haven’t gone unnoticed by Phoenix. It became part of the reason he invited her to come along with him to London in the first place, as less of a ‘need an assistant’ favor than it was a ‘vacation before she becomes Master and so he can test the waters’ favor.

Test the waters of _what_ exactly, he wasn’t so sure going in, but right now he feels like he understands it the best he can.

The whole trip was far from how he imagined it would be – or maybe that was just Pearls’ wild talks finally getting to him after he told the young girl about bringing Maya along to Europe with him – but he feels like he reached the conclusion he needed regardless.

The memories worked along with him towards his final verdict.

Phoenix doesn’t know if he can admit it to himself quite yet.

“…Yeah. It’s all so vivid for some reason,” he says, returning his attention back to her question. “I can’t believe we were actually dating.”

He looks at her pointedly, watching for her reaction.

Maya’s face is hard to read. Instead, her focus is somewhere on the calm current of the river, and he sees the reflection of waves in her eyes. She speaks, suddenly, not breaking her gaze, “And it felt so… _real._ ”

Then she grins, turning to him. “Hey, you know what’s even _more_ unbelievable? The fact that we couldn’t realize something was _super_ off. I mean, you were going around baking in a suit!”

Phoenix snorts. “And _you_ were baking in your acolyte robes in a world where magic is punishable by death.”

The mood sobers up quickly at the mention of ‘death,’ with the only sound being the bustle of the city and the crinkle of the empty popcorn bag as Maya moves to throw it away in a nearby bin. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

Maya chooses to start the conversation herself, breaking the tense silence as she folds her hands together in her lap.

“I, uh, heard from Luke. About what happened after…” Maya trails off, choosing instead to let the silence finish her sentence.

_(I guess it’s time to address the elephant in the room, huh?)_

While there was their short reunion in the underground ruins, they didn’t have much time to dwell on the circumstances of that night – those _days_ even. Back in Labyrinthia, they had a mystery to solve, a bell to find, and a Great Witch to unmask. Catching each other up on the events of a court trial seemed trivial enough after he established her safety.

It all feels like so long ago, but its effects were lasting.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, again.” At the look on his face, Maya scrambles to continue, “And before you say that I don’t need to apologize, I just – I just feel _bad_. I wanted to be able to help everyone, and in doing so I guess I forgot how much everyone else needed me. It was selfish, and I’m sorry.”

_(Only Maya would apologize for doing her best… Oh, Maya…)_

Phoenix lays a hand on her shoulder, and the contact stops her from rubbing worryingly at her arm.

“But that’s who you are, Maya. You fight for what you believe in to the very end. I don’t think that behavior needs apologizing for.” He wraps his arms around her, resting his head in the nook of her neck. “I really did miss you… I’m happy to have you back by my side.”

Maya moves to hug him back, hands finding themselves on the small of his back. Her breath tickles at his ear when she asks, almost teasingly, “Enough to threaten Inquisitor Barnham?”

He breath catches at the mention. When the incident happened, right in front of him, all he saw was burning fire against his eyelids. He remembers the smell of smoke plaguing his lungs, the pain in his heart when Barnham tried to help put him to ease after the events, how he rose his fist to the knight, and how he almost took the offered sword. Losing her was undeniably hard on him.

_(How much did Luke tell her…?)_

“…Maybe just a little,” he says after a while.

His mind flashes back to his days in the bakery, the memories that have dug their way into his heart, now, and it gives him the courage he needs to continue.

“Besides… if it weren’t for that trial… I wouldn’t have realized something. Something important to me.” Phoenix looks her in the eye, mustering together all his confidence, and even those from his other self. “I never want to lose you again.”

He takes in a breath before continuing, not stopping to see her reaction, “I was in a really bad place for a while after the trial. I’m sure Luke and Espella could tell. Hell, even Barnham knew how much it affected me. I couldn’t get over the fact that the most important person to me died right in front of my eyes.”

It took seeing her lose her own life in front of him to realize what he had. There’s a part of him that muses that he and his baker-self have more in common than he thought – after all, the Storyteller wrote a convincing tale. He never wants to come close to that again.

“And honestly, it’s been a while since I knew I was in love—” There’s a ghosting taste of betrayal and broken glass and butterflies sitting in his mouth, the image of a girl once gone, another of a girl behind a prison cell, but the bitterness passes just as quickly as it comes, “—but this is real, Maya. You’re an irreplaceable part of my life. I’m in love with you.” He sucks in another breath, shaking his head. “Maybe I have been for a while.”

Truth be told, he’s been scared. Scared of what his feelings may be – scared of the idea of _love_ itself because of the trauma he’s suffered in college. Scared that he’ll feel something so real and genuine to him, but there will be no one on the receiving end. He’s scared of jumping into anything with just anyone.

_(But it’s Maya.)_

At the end of the day, it’s always been her. She’s not just anyone to him. Never has been. If he was to jump into something, he would do it with her.

“N-Nick… I…”

There’s apprehension in her eyes, and Phoenix wrings his hands together, wiping the sweat that accumulated on his palms onto his slacks. _(Did I say something wrong? Was now a bad time to say it? But if not now, then when else? Crap, crap_ , crap _.)_

“I know it’s sudden, and it’s weird, because of everything – because you’re Mia’s little sister and because you’re my assistant and—”

Maybe it’s because he’s rambling on and on _and on_ , but he doesn’t seem to notice when Maya gingerly places a hand on his face and bridges the gap between them.

The kiss is chaste and has a hint of salt from the popcorn they’ve just eaten, but it’s soft and poignant nonetheless. It gets him to shut up, at least.

She pulls away almost as quick as she swooped in, and Phoenix just blinks at her, too stunned to do anything else.

“Er—"

“Oh, Nick…” she murmurs, his face still cradled in her hands. Maya grins. “Now _that’s_ a better confession than baker Nick’s.”

“H-hey!” he sputters, taken aback. “‘Baker Nick’ tried his best, okay? You don’t even know how hard he tried to confess to you!”

Maya bursts into laughter, letting her hands drop to rest on his shoulders. He finds himself chuckling with her, though he still hears his heart pounding in his ears.

“Wait a second…” Suddenly, it feels like a court trial all over again, when the prosecution had caught him off guard and he had to scramble through the court record to put two and two together. “So… that means…”

“Yes, Nick. I love you too.” Maya confirms, and the way that she looks into his eyes makes him feel like jell-o. “You know, you can’t expect to save someone so many times and not have them fall in love with you. That’s just not how it works. It was a stupid crush at first, probably around the time I left for Kurain the first time around, but then we got closer and…”

She chooses to let the sentence finish itself, blushing.

“All this time…?”

The red tinging her cheeks is all he needs to see.

He closes the gap between them again, and when they pull apart, their lean their foreheads against each other. Phoenix closes his eyes, and a part of him wants to live in this moment forever.

Maya tears herself away from him after a while, taking his hand in hers and interlocking their fingers together.

“Come on, Nick,” she says, a glint in her eyes as she stands up. “There’s a couple more places I wanted to check out before we head back. Mr. Layton did mention a really nice bakery somewhere around here, so that’ll be first on our list!”

Maya drags him by the hand, and Phoenix feels a balance in the world that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. No matter how long he spends with her, the three years of friendship they have here – along with the five years of false memories in Labyrinthia – Phoenix only finds himself craving more.

He can do with a little bread and butter himself.

.

“The Storyteller did get something right, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“My feelings for you are the same no matter what.”

“Too bad you’ll _never_ be good at baking, Nick! Ah, that banana bread has definitely seen better days.”

“ _Maya_ … ruining the mood…”

“Hehe, right. You love it, though.”

“…Yeah. I do.”

“…”

“You really remember everything, Maya?”

“Yep. I _especially_ remember that one time that cute little goat had tripped you, and I’ve never seen you look more terrified in my _life_! Classic baker Nick.”

“ _Ahem_ … anyway… let’s go make some new memories. For real, this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s shoooort, i knoooooow. i’m sad about it, too! but like how they say, “as long as you need to get your story out,” and i felt like this had been an appropriate place to end it, in a cute story about snapshots of their lives together in the bakery. savory, a bit of inner conflict, but rewarding in the end, and i think it fits bread & butter completely. i hope y’all enjoyed this as much as i did writing it during my finals week of summer school & into my fall quarter midterm szn & nanowrimo.
> 
> much, much love & a big thank you to everyone who’s been reading.


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